Dance with the Devil
by Calmena
Summary: Betrayed by everyone he cared about, Harry has nothing left but to take revenge. He goes to Voldemort, deciding that there will be death for his friends... and for himself, as he doesn’t want to live in a world that consists of lies anymore. LV/HP
1. Prologue

**Title:** Dance with the Devil

**Author:** Me )

**Beta: **I can't do this without one, can I? ;) _Disco-Dancing on the Roof_

**Pairing:** HP/LV

**Genres:** Dark, Angst, Drama

**Warnings:** SLASH!!, violence, blood, torture, implied rape, sexual situations, cursing (_not_ spells!), OOC, Chara-death, other disturbing themes

**Summary:** Harry discovers that his live is a lie. He decides to take revenge on the people, who betrayed him and becomes one of Voldemort's followers. After that, he wants to end his life. Voldemort could change that, but he doesn't know about the death-wish and he doesn't want to accept, that he sees more in Harry, than just a servant…

**Disclaimer: **Noooo… Even the title's not mine. It's from a song of Breaking Benjamin. But I own… my pen.

**AN:**Hello! :) Here I am with a story I started writing in german some time ago, so I decided, I'd try translating it. I should probably tell you, that I am unused to writing in english. But my beta will edit everything. Thanks!!

* * *

**-o-Prologue-o-**

_Here I stand,  
helpless and left for death._

_Close your eyes,  
so many days gone by.  
Easy to find what's wrong,  
harder to find what's right._

_I believe in you,  
I can show you that  
I can see right through  
all your empty lies._

_I won't stay long,  
in this world so wrong._

_Say goodbye,  
as we dance with the devil tonight.  
Don't you dare look at him in the eye,  
as we dance with the devil tonight?_

_Trembling,  
crawling across my skin.  
Feeling your cold dead eyes,  
stealing the life of mine._

_I believe in you,  
I can show you that  
I could see right through  
all your empty lies._

_I won't last long,  
in this world so wrong._

_Say goodbye,  
as we dance with the devil tonight.  
Don't you dare look at him in the eye,  
as we dance with the devil tonight?_

_Hold on. Hold on._

_Say goodbye,  
as we dance with the devil tonight.  
Don't you dare look at him in the eye,  
as we dance with the devil tonight?_

_Hold on. Hold on._

_Goodbye._

_(__**Breaking Benjamin - Dance With The Devil**__)_

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

He had known it for quite some time. So why did it surprise him now? Why did he feel betrayed and as if he had been used as a weapon?

One more time, Harry looked at the fourth letter he had opened and read. His face was almost stony and didn't reveal his emotions. His eyes wandered to the stack beside his bed, which he had built there over the last few days. There was fury written across his features, but besides that his expression was impassive.

How could those people, whose saviour he was said to be, let him down? Why did they think they had the right to do this?

Abruptly he the tore the letter to pieces, wiped the stack off of his nightstand and gazed out his window.

He had only asked for help - a letter from the Order to his relatives, or a visit, if possible… _anything_ would have been okay. Because the Dursleys seemed to have a new aim in life; to beat him until he couldn't stand anymore.

And what had the answers been? From Dumbledore, Remus, Hermione, Ron and all the other members of the Order he had written to? The answers for which he had accepted the danger that his… 'family'... could notice one of the letters he sent?

_He should not be so melodramatic - a few slaps would not kill him._

_He would be safe from Voldemort and that was, after all, what was important._

_He should not lie to them, just to be allowed to leave the Dursleys._

_The Dursleys were fine people and would not do something like _that_ to anyone._

Harry's face became even colder and more bereft of emotion as he allowed his mask of the naïve 'Golden Boy' to fall. The mask he had fashioned for himself quite some time ago, the mask intended to show the people what they wanted to see. The mask he had worn day after day.

He hadn't wanted to disappoint them. But that was over now.

They had betrayed him. Every last one of them. He had written them, told them what the Dursleys had done to him, what they continued to do. Not everything. But almost.

Still, no one came to help him…

Only _once _had he needed their help, and yet no one had wanted to stand up for him.

He had accepted it, though.

Not one of his supposed friends was _really_ a friend.

So… what would stop him? What would stop him from taking one of Vernon's razors and cutting his own wrist open? From spilling his blood on the floor and finding his – if he though about it, _well deserved _– peace?

He knew what would stop him.

Revenge. The revenge he wanted on Dumbledore and his _friends_, to make them pay for what they had let happen.

And he knew exactly how he would get his revenge…


	2. Chapter 1

**-o-****Chapter 1-o-**

It was surprisingly easy to travel to Knockturn Alley.

Harry would have been angry if he hadn't already given up on feeling. He hadn't thought that it would be that simple to escape Dumbledore's _reliable_ _protection_, as the man had called it. Besides that, the headmaster had spoken of guards, who should have been in front of his house all the time. He couldn't help but think that the old man had lied to him… again.

But, as it was, he didn't feel anything and all that came from him was a disparaging snort.

However, he had to admit - it would have been much more difficult to flee from Privet Drive if he hadn't put a spell on himself before the holidays had begun. It should prevent the Ministry from finding out that he Apparated already, and it seemed as if it was working. Despite the fact that the spell was banned and labelled as black magic, he had used it. It didn't stop him, all what mattered was that it could be useful and because of that he had put it on himself when he had been able to escape from his friends into the Chamber of Secrets.

At that time he had already begun to lose his faith in the friendship of Ron, Hermione and himself. This was the reason that he hadn't told them about the spell. Probably he had been lucky at that, because surely they would have run to Dumbledore and told him everything.

_Little traitors_.

Smoothly and without a sound he moved through the dark alley, a black coat around his form.

Now he had to find a Death Eater…

Easily the teen decided to enter the pub in Knockturn Alley. If he wanted to meet one of Voldemort's followers, he would have to go there, he reasoned.

When he came into the smudgy little building, he sneered. Even inside, it didn't look very inviting, but - thank Merlin - he hadn't come to eat or drink anything. He didn't think it could have been good for his health.

There weren't many guests. And nobody looked like a Death Eater; although he knew that looks could be deceiving, he turned away from them. Instead he determinedly and confidently made his way to the barman. The people who looked at him in interest, he either ignored or just didn't notice.

Inconspicuously, he showed the watching innkeeper five galleons. Money always worked to convince people to tell you what you wanted - especially when said people were like this man.

"Surely you know where I can meet the Dark Lord, don't you?" Harry asked coldly and without so much as a hint of an emotion. His green eyes were sharply focused on the man, but the wizard couldn't see that, because of the hood obscuring Harry's features.

However, he could still feel the weight that seemed to come from the stare; even if he couldn't make it out, he knew when he was being watched. He hesitated for only one moment. His eyes wandered from the money to the concealed face and back.

It was only a few seconds before Harry had had enough.

With an angry hiss he pulled something out of his pocket and the man shirked back. The black haired teen could see that the barman felt more than stupid when all he saw was five more galleons.

He couldn't help but smirk. Honestly, it was pathetic. This sad excuse of a man was supposed to be a wizard?

"So?" He asked the man again and tapped the dark brown with one of his long, pale fingers to show how annoyed and bored he _really_ was, even if his voice stayed impassive.

Nonetheless, the man needed several more minutes to decide. After all, it was he who was in danger. If he sent a spy of the ministry or Dumbledore's Order to the Dark Lord, he would be in really _big_ trouble… But the wizard in front of him didn't seem like a person who would like Dumbledore or his ideals. He seemed - well, dark, for lack of a better word. Especially his cold stare that seemed to cut through you, even if you couldn't see it, indicated a black wizard rather than to a white one.

At last he made his decision.

"Jochen!" He shouted through the door behind him and some minutes later a man came out. He looked about thirty, and very bored, as he answered.

"What is it…?" He asked, while inspecting the black clad figure in front of the bar indifferently.

"This wizard wants to the Dark Lord. Bring him there," was the quietly hissed answer. For a moment the man, Jochen, frowned. It was _very_ unusual that the innkeeper let someone go to their Lord through him. In the end, he shrugged. It wasn't his problem, so what…?

He went to the suspicious looking man. (Although, honestly, who didn't look suspicious in this street?) None too carefully, he took the forearm of the person, who withdrew nearly unnoticeably. A moment later they Disapparated.

"I hope I didn't make the wrong choice…" the only man who was left murmured anxiously while he took the ten galleons the wizard had left for him and his - not so willingly given - help, and put them away.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Soundlessly, Harry followed the man named Jochen, until they came to a huge door with two Death Eaters guarding it.

"This is someone who'd like to meet the Dark Lord," Jochen said sharply and one of the Deatheaters nodded and disappeared into the room to announce them. Only moments later he came back out.

"The Dark Lord is ready to see him. You are allowed to go," He told Jochen, who nodded and went back the way they had come.

In the meantime, the big door was opened and Harry was allowed to enter the room that lay behind it.

He wasn't surprised in the least when he saw that there were two Deatheaters inside, too. After all, who wouldn't be suspicious, if they were in the place of Voldemort?

It was then that his eyes fell on the Dark Lord, who sat behind a black desk. But this time, he was a bit taken aback; after all, he hadn't thought that the previously snake-like man would actually be able to look human once again. But only all too soon the emotion was swallowed by the inner emptiness of the Gryffindor.

Instead, he watched the sitting man with great interest. He looked almost identical to when Harry had seen him in the Chamber of Secrets, only some years older. The teen decided that he seemed about twenty-something.

Only the cold, red eyes had stayed, and at the moment they were looking at him calculatingly.

"Who are you and what do you want?" The question was slightly hissed. Harry let his hood fall.

"Harry Potter. And I want to join you."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Silence, eerie silence, hung over them. Voldemort's wand was pointed at him, as were those of the Death Eaters. All the while Harry sat comfortably in the chair in front of the desk. He didn't seem to be fazed by the situation he was in, and neither did he draw his own wand.

The Dark Lord's red eyes narrowed.

"Leave us," He ordered the Death Eaters harshly, "We have to talk without witnesses." The two wizards bowed before they left the room.

Probably to wait in front of the door until their master called them again, Harry thought.

"So, Potter… Why the sudden change?" Voldemort asked, grinning coldly. The wand was still in his hand, even if it wasn't aimed at the teen anymore.

Interestedly, the Dark Lord noticed that he could feel the dark magic flowing from the boy in all directions. It was surprisingly strong. Without a doubt, Harry Potter must have had a trauma so strong that it had changed his magic. And not just a bit, but from a glowing white to an impenetrable black.

But he wasn't interested in what had triggered the shock, he didn't even care, if the Potter had overcome it. All he cared about was power, and the boy certainly had enough of that. And if he had the chance to get the "golden boy" on his side… well, he wouldn't ignore it.

He could already see Dumbledore's face when he found out that his little weapon had changed sides, when he found out that Harry Potter had gone _dark_…

"I want revenge on all those who betrayed me, who _used_ me. Dumbledore, the Order and my so-called _friends_," The black haired teen explained in a monotone voice, and Voldemort was pulled out of his planning. But that didn't hinder the cold smirk from appearing on the face of the red-eyed wizard.

"What do you want for in exchange for joining me?" He asked. Of course he knew the boy wouldn't become a Death Eater for nothing. Even someone as Gryffindorish as the teen in front of him wouldn't do something like that just for free.

That it was a help to fulfill the Potter's plans didn't matter.

"I want nothing to be withheld from me and I want to have a say in what the Death Eaters do. And _I don't want to be used as a weapon._" The last part was said louder that anything else and it was clear to even Voldemort that this was not up for discussing.

He thought about it.

Potter wouldn't have to know if he didn't do what they had agreed upon, did he? He could still let the brat do what it wanted once in a while and do what he himself thought was best the rest of the time.

Plus, the Potter was a pretty sight; he was content to say that. The eyes weren't hidden by the glasses anymore and glowed with power, but held emptiness otherwise. His hair was as wild as ever - it didn't seem as if it would change anytime soon. Skin pale and flawless, body a tad smaller and thinner than was normal for his age, but it made him seem like a porcelain doll.

He had always found it quite endearing when a person was powerful or exceedingly beautiful… and that boy was both. And if he could get the Potter's trust…

"I accept," Voldemort said in the end. Harry nodded. "But you will receive the Dark Mark." It wasn't a question, it wasn't even a proposal. An obvious order, that's what it was. But Harry agreed nonetheless.

"Good, then it's best if we do that now," Voldemort stated.

Without another word an expressionless Harry stood up and offered the red-eyed wizard his left forearm.

A painful burning started to spread from the point the Dark Lord pressed his wand to, but no sound could be heard coming from the teen. He had learned to accept pain and be quiet, even if it hurt like hell.

After only a few minutes the pain started to ebb away. All that was left was a slight tingling.

Empty were his eyes as Harry looked at the Dark Mark that was now branded onto his pale forearm. He had become a follower of the murderer of his parents in order to take revenge on the abusers of his soul.

Why didn't he feel anything?

There wasn't regret.

There wasn't guilt.

Nothing.

Now they had accomplished it. He was unable to feel the emotion Dumbledore had labelled as his greatest power and help. Love.

Instead there was only emptiness.

And it wasn't the Dark Lord's fault that this had happened.

No…

His thoughts were interrupted when the door was opened.

"Avery will bring you to your room. I advise you not to leave the manor," Voldemort told him impassively, not looking up from his work.

"Understood." That was all Harry said before he followed the Death Eater out of the room.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The room was big, dark and very green, but Harry had neither the patience nor the time to look around more thoroughly.

He had much to think about.

Just a few minutes ago, he had handed his life over to Voldemort.

What the man didn't know, though… Harry wouldn't live very long anymore. If everything went as it should.

His aim - his _only_ aim - was to get his revenge. And nothing, absolutely _nothing,_ would be able to keep him from ending the lie they all called his _life_ after that.

The whole world was a lie.

They _all_ had lied to him. They still did. It seemed that the people wouldn't change that nasty habit.

He just knew that Voldemort wouldn't keep his word concerning their former agreement.

These hard eyes had shown it.

The Dark Lord had tried to lie to him, too.

But what had he expected? He should have been able to foresee it, especially because Voldemort was selfish and didn't think about how his actions would influence the people around him.

But he had seen something entirely else in the eyes of the older man, as well. Something that would have scared him if he hadn't lost most of his feelings already. Something that wouldn't let him sleep anymore, that would drive him to insanity.

The Dark Lord thought about different things, too. Things concerning him - not only about how useful he would be as a follower.

He knew that look; he had seen it often enough…

Sighing, Harry lay back on the bed and closed his eyes.

There was no use thinking about it now. He should not think about it…

Only a few minutes later, the delicate sixteen-year-old was asleep.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Soundlessly, Harry rushed through the dark corridors, branded forearm burning painfully.

Why did he have to be called so soon?

He had awakened, showered, and after that he had taken clothes out of the filled wardrobe opposite his bed.

That had been the moment the Dark Mark began to burn.

He had hastily put on the black trousers and the green shirt, a robe thrown over it, and been ready. Only seconds later he was on his way to the Dark Lord's study.

Taking one last deep breath, Harry knocked and entered.

**-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

Wow, I hadn't expected so many reviews. Thanks! –huggles every reviewer-

Weeeell… this chapter is longer than the prologue, isn't it? Hope you like it. :)


	3. Chapter 2

**-o-Chapter 2-o-**

Hard red eyes looked at him angrily. He had never known that they could be so _icy_, even if their colour was so warm, almost flaming…

It was scary.

"Why did that take so much time!" the Dark Lord asked, a harsh tone in his voice. Nonetheless, Harry stayed calm. He was even brave enough to talk back.

"I had to put on clothes before I could come. How could I have been able to know that I would be called that soon?" he snapped irritably.

One moment the Dark Lord seemed to be _very_ inclined to hex the green-eyed wizard. The hand which held his wand twitched continuously, while it seemed as if he wanted to kill the younger with his gaze.

"That's not my problem," was his answer in the end, and Harry was smart enough to hold his tongue and let the Dark Lord continue. "I made a plan – how you will be able to get your revenge on Dumbledore while I will still be satisfied," Voldemort began after some seemingly endless seconds spent in a heavy silence.

The sudden change of subject confused Harry a bit.

"Um… okay?"

"We will attack Dumbledore from within his own ranks. You have to go back to Hogwarts at the beginning of the school year and act as if nothing has happened. You'll get Dumbledore to trust you…"

Harry became even more sceptical as the explanation of the plan went on. Of course, Voldemort didn't ask _him_ what he thought of it. He was confronted with a fait accompli and both of them knew it. Nevertheless, Harry didn't say anything about it and the red-eyed man took that as a good sign. He thought that the boy in front of him had already given up on complaining and had submitted to him.

He couldn't have known that Harry didn't care _how _he could come to Dumbledore; anything, as long as he got his revenge.

"And you really think that this will work?" Harry asked when the Dark Lord had finished with his explanation.

A finely shaped brow rose as he answered.

"Of course!" Voldemort hissed icily. "Why should it not?"

The Potter was intelligent enough to not say anything anymore, even if he was still a bit unsure about the plan. But, after all, he didn't want to get hit by a _Cruciatus_ or something worse, and the Dark Lord's voice promised exactly that if he dared to say something…

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Harry wandered the corridor, heading back to his room. In three days he would already be seventeen…

As he was deeply entangled in his thoughts he rounded the next corner, staring at something only he could see. So it wasn't surprising that he ran straight into Draco Malfoy, who seemed to see nothing either.

Probably it was because of the high stack of papers he was holding in his hands.

So it came to be that both boys sat on the floor, dozens of invitations lying on the floor around them. While Harry stood up again and wiped off some invisible dust, the blond stayed sitting on the floor, shocked and staring.

"Potter?!" he asked eventually, his voice almost comically high, and finally the brilliant green eyes settled on him.

"Yes," Harry answered sighing and after that looked at the Malfoy with a cynical smile on his lips. "Surprised?"

"What are you doing here, Potter?" The Gryffindor wondered how a name could be pronounced with so much distaste and let a brow rise.

"Ask your dear daddy…" he mocked eventually and walked away without giving the blonde so much as another glance.

It took some more seconds until the young Malfoy caught himself.

"So the Dark Lord has finally found a new plaything…" he murmured quietly, while he looked around himself. Still papers everywhere. Growling angrily, Draco picked them up and cursed. Now he had to sort the names of the people who were invited to the ball again, because who would do it, if not him?

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Harry let himself fall onto the soft bed, and, sighing, he closed his eyes. Tried to slowly come down from the angry wave he had been on only a few seconds ago.

And, even so, he couldn't refrain from punching his mattress with a fist.

"Damn! How… Fuck!" the black-haired cursed and clenched his teeth in exasperation.

How could he let Malfoy do this? How could he let that… _boy_ revive his emotions?

How could he allow it that the blonde destroyed the wonderfully muffled emptiness which lived in him at the moment?

It was Malfoy's fault that he felt irritability every time he saw the Slytherin.

That he felt… regret.

Regret that he had made the false decision.

And he hated himself, that his walls that enclosed his feelings and with that his soul were not strong enough. They mocked him, wanted to show him that his control over them was nothing but fake.

But he knew it could – it _had to_ work. He just _knew_ that it was possible to lock the feelings inside himself.

Harry didn't notice that his thoughts became more irrational… _dreadful_, the more he pondered about it, while the protection around his soul slowly broke into pieces.

His only thought was that he didn't want to remember… he didn't want to _feel_ anymore…

Only slowly the wall began to mend itself, and it gave the young man the security that he needed so urgently. He calmed down and the previously dominating panic turned into anger. Anger directed at himself, for letting the emotions flow. But rather quickly, he forgot his fury to focus on something else. Almost completely calm again, Harry let himself close his eyes and concentrate on his soul…

Cautiously, he continued weaving the protection he had to thank for saving him from being broken.

String after string, cord after cord, he cocooned his feelings in coldness, mended the flaws which had built there because of his earlier emotional breakdown and thickened the wall then.

The whole thing was nothing more than mind-magic. It didn't have anything to do with power; even Squibs could do something like this if they wanted to. Instead, it depended on the control of the thoughts. An advanced and very dangerous type of Occlumency. If you took too much power at once for building or mending the wall, it was possible to die from energy-loss.

But that didn't stop Harry from learning this mind-magic anymore.

In the end the green-eyed teen had to stop because his senses fogged up and everything became dull. It would still take much time until his wall would be strong enough to keep his soul safe from _all_ outer influences. Even more so if he had another emotional breakdown which let the protection break down a bit.

Slowly, Harry slipped into a deep sleep which was only nightmare-less because of the half-finished wall.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"You'll act as if Potter has authority over you!" Voldemort ordered the Death Eaters. "At the moment, he resides here, in this manor. If you meet him, which is not likely, but could happen, you'll react as if it were _me_ who's standing in front of you."

"My Lord, but…" A Death Eater was stupid enough to interrupt him in his speech.

"_Crucio."_ That was the only response which came from the Dark Lord and it stopped the other Death Eaters from protesting.

After endless minutes, it seemed, the curse was cancelled.

"Any complaints?" Voldemort asked coldly. But it stayed silent. Nobody wanted to incur the dark wizard's wrath, as they could still see the earlier Death Eater gasping for breath on the cold stone floor.

"Good. Some of you perhaps noticed that I said 'as if…'. It's because I only want him to _think_ that he has power over you, so he doesn't change sides again. It would be too bad, because then I would have to kill him…

"But if he orders you to do something that goes against my wishes, you will follow my order. It doesn't matter _what_ he wants from you in such a situation. Understood?"

The Death Eaters nodded hastily and a cold grin appeared on Voldemort's face.

"Good. Then you may begin to tell me what you accomplished since the last meeting."

o

While the Death Eaters stepped forward one by one and began to report their achievements and failures, the Dark Lord spoke secrecy spells over them.

After all, he didn't want them to let something slip. It didn't make a difference if it was voluntarily or out of force.

Voldemort's anger reached its peak when he noticed that most of the missions he had given to his followers had failed.

"_Crucio."_

Screams, loud, shrill screams resounded through the room as the man who had just talked about his raid lay on the floor and twisted in agony.

"I think you should know better than to disappoint me. And it should be common knowledge that I do not accept it when a report is longer than absolutely necessary…" the red-eyed wizard said icily, while the _crucio'_ed man tried to get up again, even if his knees shuddered visibly.

Heavy silence spread through the hall as the Death Eaters fidgeted uneasily and hoped that they would not be the next ones to be under the _Crucio_.

After some silent moments, the next man stepped forward, shaking with fear, but all the while trying to look confident even though he felt as if he was walking into his personal doom.

The remaining reports were satisfyingly short.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Harry sat up and blinked tiredly, which was a bit strange since he had just woken up. Only for one short moment he closed his eyes and massaged his temples, trying to lessen the pain which sat there.

The vision of the Death Eater meeting hadn't fully released him yet. Even if he should have been used to it, as it happened quite often, he wasn't. Though he doubted that Voldemort knew of those, or that he did it voluntarily, they didn't stop. So he had learnt to live with them. Sometimes they came more often, sometimes less. But one thing was always the same – they left a weird feeling of disorientation and exhaustion.

Nevertheless, he couldn't help but be glad that he had had the vision that night. So he knew that he had been right when he had thought that Voldemort would just use him and not actually do what they had agreed on.

It was because of this that he was not downhearted by it. But still… He was angry that, _again_, he was deceived. Even if he hadn't expected anything different, it left a stinging feeling of disappointment in his chest which was brutally shoved into the back of his mind and from that moment on negated.

Suddenly a nearly frightening gleam appeared in the emerald green eyes.

If Voldemort thought that _he_ didn't have to maintain their arrangement, _he_ wouldn't either. After all, he didn't have to play pet, did he? He could still leave this room, even if the Dark Lord had told him not to.

With a flick of his wand, Harry was invisible and he went to the door. After all, he didn't want some Death Eater who ran around in the corridors to see him, did he? It wouldn't bode well for him…

Only a few steps away from the door he halted. Was it possible, that Voldemort… _Voldemort_, who was so very distrustful, did just leave him in his room without something to monitor him? Even if he could just get up and leave?

Attentively, Harry looked at the entrance and tried to find out if spells were guarding it somehow.

At first it didn't seem as if his assumption was right… but then he saw something shimmer, only for a short moment and almost not visible on the dark brown door. Harry had to hold back an upset sound.

That… _bastard_!

_Yes,_ he had known that he would be used by him, too.

_Yes,_ he had known that his request concerning the Death Eaters would not be fulfilled as he had wanted.

But he hadn't expected to be supervised!

After all, the spell was not unfamiliar to Harry. Dumbledore had used it, too. The man had put it on the portrait which guarded the Gryffindor common room, to see when the _Golden Boy _left it.

Had the spell not been broken down once because of a little prank, courtesy of the Weasley twins, the black-haired teen would have never noticed it.

But now he was almost thankful that Dumbledore had been so controlling. After all, otherwise he would not have noticed the spell and run right through it. Who knew what would have happened to him then…

'_Almost'_ being the keyword.

* * *

Wow, so many reviews. I am euphoric.

_**IMPORTANT:** __From 28th of June to 3rd of August I'll not be able to write anything. Or even post. I'll be on holiday in the US and I don't think I'll have internet._


	4. Chapter 3

**-o-Chapter 3-o-**

Harry sat on his bed, lost in thoughts. He wanted to find a way out of the room… almost desperately so. And one of the reasons was because he wanted to show Voldemort that he _could_ do it and wouldn't be locked up. But, unfortunately, he had yet to find a way to accomplish his… 'escape'. There was nothing in the room that could have helped him, and trying to dismantle the spell was out of question, since he didn't know how to, without alerting someone.

However, he couldn't think long about it either, as someone knocked on his door only minutes after he had started to ponder. He couldn't deny that he was angry about being interrupted – even if it was highly possible that the person in front of his door didn't know that – and didn't bother answering. If it was because of childish defiance or just indifference... he didn't know.

In the end, after many more tries to get an answer out of him, the knocking finally stopped and the spell that lay on the door was cancelled. Only moments later, a Death Eater glanced into the room – although a bit hesitantly.

It wasn't as if Harry was surprised, so his only reaction was a bored look as he waited for the man to speak. However, it _was_ a surprise when the black-clad person didn't look at him and went to the bathroom's door and knocked there.

The man shook slightly but noticeably as he waited. Though Harry saw it he didn't dwell on it as he noticed his chance and left his room hastily, still intent on being as silent as possible. Only when he was outside of the room did he realize why he hadn't been seen – after all, the invisibility spell still worked on him and kept him concealed from everything and everyone.

Trying to make no noises, but also being quick, Harry walked to where he believed the manor's entrance to be. Usually his memory was quite good; nevertheless he hoped that it was correct in this case too, because you could never be sure, could you?

However, in the end he put a silencing spell on himself too; after all, he didn't want anyone to hear him, did he? You couldn't be too careful when being in a house with a bunch of Death Eaters. Without being able to do otherwise he thanked Merlin that Voldemort had put a spell on his manor so the Ministry wouldn't be able to notice forbidden spells or other not-so-legal things. How would the Dark Lord be able to _Crucio_ people left and right otherwise, after all?

And to be completely safe Harry had put a spell on his wand so he wouldn't be able to be tracked by the Ministry anymore either, so he had nothing to be afraid of. A dry, emotionless chuckle slipped out, but was immediately swallowed by the silencing spell around him as he thought that nobody knew of his self-inflicted spells.

In the meantime Harry could see more Death Eaters, which was encouraging him and proved that he was on the right path. But, still, this was where the tricky part began. He wouldn't be allowed to touch any of the persons, least he be discovered, which he didn't want… yet.

Moving smoothly, the black-haired teen darted through the people and arrived at the entrance in the end. Now he just had to wait for someone to open the door so he could go through. After all, it would be pretty obvious if the door opened itself without someone coming in or leaving, wouldn't it?

The first Death Eater who came through the door opened it just a little bit - not enough for Harry to actually slip through, so he had to wait for another chance.

Seconds came and went and the more time went by, the more inpatient Harry was getting. Not that he was unsure, no; he knew what he wanted to do. It was just that he was getting agitated; after all, the Death Eater that had gone to his room could arrive at any moment and tell everyone that he wasn't in his room anymore. And _then_ it would be nearly impossible to slip out of the manor without being noticed, that was for sure.

Still, no frantic Death Eater came bursting in, and after some more minutes the big door was – finally! – opened wide enough for Harry to slip through unnoticed. It was just a coincidence, but the green-eyed boy took the opportunity. The wind had thrown the door out of the man's hand, but that was all he needed.

It took him merely one second and then the teenager was outside, the storm clawing at his clothes and playing with them. For just a moment the jaded emeralds closed, before they opened again. Now, though, there was a vicious gleam in the innocent depths of his eyes that slowly overtook everything else.

He didn't know the game that was played, but that didn't mean he couldn't discover the rules, and bend them, _break_ them, until the other "players" were nothing more than a confused mess. And that would be the cue for him to show his real being, not the mask that he let everyone see… It would be the coup de grâce for everyone else…

There was a strange, almost scary grin overtaking his features as he walked across the grass until he came to the end of the anti-Apparition wards and only one second later there was nothing left that could have indicated that there had been a person only moments ago… Only the tamped down grass where he had stood before.

**-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

"M-My Lord… he… he isn't in his room anymore…" The quivering voice belonged to the Death Eater that had been sent to fetch Harry. He had been the one to discover that the boy had vanished. It wasn't surprising that he was afraid; after allm he was the one to tell the bad news to the Dark Lord… And if the angrily slitted red eyes were anything to go by, the man wanted to kill him on the spot… which wasn't very reassuring, to be frank. How did it go? 'Kill the messenger'?

"_Crucio_," hissed Voldemort, fury lacing the word, and the Death Eater fell to the floor, screaming and twitching.

'How could he have escaped…?' the Dark Lord thought to himself, while he watched absentmindedly how the _Crucio_ed man started to whimper pathetically. In the end he cancelled the spell and asked another question.

"What did you do, exactly?" The shaking man, still feeling the after-effects of the Crucio, tried to get up – and failed – as he answered unsteadily.

"What you told me to, My Lord. I knocked, cancelled the spell that lay on the door, went in and wanted to take him with me. But he wasn't in the room."

The next question was asked in a carefully controlled voice, though you could still hear the fury that lay underneath it. "Did you restore the spell subtly as soon as you had entered the room?"

The Death Eater paled dramatically and it was answer enough – and it caused another _Crucio_ to be directed at him.

**-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

A person completely clad in black appeared out of nowhere, directly between two houses. Shadows seemed to swallow him up; the dark clothing blended in perfectly. The light itself seemed to avoid the young man who was filled with so much hate that it seemed to be show in his appearance.

It was a rather eerie smile that stretched across his pale features when he went to one of the doors and rang the bell. _Granger_ was written there in an italic script, looking rather beautiful.

"Yes, who's there?" The voice seemed wary, and after a short glance at his watch he knew why. It was pretty late for someone to come by unannounced.

"I'm a friend of Hermione's, from Hogwarts," he answered after only a short hesitancy. It went by unnoticed, while Harry smirked slightly. _Friend_?

"Oh, I am coming," he could hear the voice of a young woman in the background. Absolutely perfect…

It took only a few seconds until the brown-haired girl opened the door, but right after seeing him she froze.

"…Harry? What are you doing here?!" The voice sounded surprised, even a bit frantic and high-pitched and he found it to be endlessly amusing. A malignant grin started to spread across his face as he went past her and leant against the inner wall of the house.

"Oh, you know, _Hermione_," he started, the sickly-sweet sound in his voice clearly apparent, "I don't like to be betrayed, not even to Dumbledore… And I hate to be lied to. So the question is… why did you do _both_ of these things?"

Hazel eyes narrowed as the witch stared at him. "Why are you not with the Dursleys?" She asked, completely disregarding his earlier words. Her voice was laced with false worry and he couldn't hold back the deep sneer that wanted to be seen.

"You got my letters; think, and then there's your answer."

"Hermione, is everything okay? You're really long down there already…" It was the voice of a woman, probably Hermione's mum.

He couldn't hold back the smirk that started appearing. "You know, _Hermione_… I think I'll start now. _Imperio_." It wasn't surprising for him in the least that the young woman tried to resist, even lasted for some moments, before her resolve broke in the end. All the while Harry was very pleased with himself. He hadn't tried the curse out on human beings… till now. It was a good thing that he had decided to learn some… things... in the Chamber of Secrets.

"Yes, mum," Hermione finally answered her mother's question. "I'm going out for a moment, okay?" Without waiting for an answer she opened the front door and went out, where she waited for him to come out.

But first Harry spelled himself invisible and erased Mrs. Granger's memory of someone visiting Hermione. Only after that did he leave the house and go down the street, his former friend following him like a puppy.

After only about five minutes of walking, he stopped in a little alley. Before doing anything else he put some silencing spells on the dark street, as well as an invisibility spell. Then he turned towards Hermione, a little smirk on his otherwise plain face as he freed her of the _Imperius_.

"What do you think are you doing here?" Her question was asked in a slightly higher-than-usual voice, proving to him that she was a bit unsure, but still not enough to be intimidated.

A dark chuckle left Harry's throat; a cold, emotionless sound, seeming terribly unlike him, but still somehow… fitting. After all, the feeling that one had while being around him wasn't always friendly anymore either. And at the moment… it seemed almost murderous.

"Oh, you know, Hermione… I think you could answer your own question if you tried to," he explained and the girl's hazel eyes widened, when she understood what he meant to tell her.

"But Harry…" It was abruptly cut off, as there was a silencing spell on her again, leaving her staring at the emotionless cool gaze that had once been so full of warmth and friendship for her, unable to say anything.

"Tut-tut-tut… Haven't you ever learnt not to speak when not asked to do so? And there you are, behaving as if you were such a good girl… _Crucio_." There would have been shrill screams, had they not been forced to stay unheard, as Hermione's limbs cramped and hurt beyond belief. Needles all over her body… knives… hot… cold… Everything seemed to blur together, creating a haze of pain. The girl didn't even realize that she had bitten her lip in an attempt to keep her mouth shut.

She wanted to tell herself that it was just her mind that let her feel the pain – after all, that was how the unforgivable worked - but she couldn't seem to hold onto it. Every time she wanted to grab the thought, it seemed to be just out of reach.

She was more than relieved when the curse finally stopped after about two minutes. Even the silencing spell was lifted, as she realized when she heard her own pained pants.

"Have you learnt your lesson?" Harry asked sweetly, but she would have had to be deaf to be able to ignore the deadly sound that went with the words. However, he didn't get an answer… not a _voiced_ answer. Instead, Hermione spat some of the blood that had gathered in her mouth at his feet and looked at him with hate in her eyes, blazing hot like fire.

"I don't know what the Dursleys did to you… well, I don't think I know everything. But I can tell you one thing…" Her voice became vicious as the brown eyes burned with anger, as if she hoped to hurt Harry with the words to come. "I think they were right in whatever they did."

The triumphant smirk on Hermione's face didn't last long, when Harry himself seemed to stay calm and looked down on her.

"Oh, really? You think so? _Crucio_." This time he could hear the pain in the voice, the high screeching that hurt in his ears. The Boy-Who-Lived's expression told plainly of the disdain he felt, as he watched the girl writhe on the floor.

But whatever he had been expecting, Hermione reacted differently to the unforgivable curse. She cut his words off as soon as it was lifted and Harry breathed in to start talking.

"Dumbledore will find out… He will… he will punish you for it, you'll be in Azkaban for sure… He will show you your place, you'll see!" Her words were breathless, as if she had to force them out one by one, but when she saw that her little rant hadn't affected him in the least, she decided that if she said something, she should say everything that would probably hurt him. "Worthless slut!"

She couldn't have known that these words would seal her fate, that they would be the cause for what happened afterwards. All she could see was that a furious glint appeared in the formerly beautiful green eyes and it left the young woman pleased with herself.

At the moment Hermione labelled him worthless something snapped. Harry wasn't… he had had to hear it often enough – _too often, he believed it almost himself _– and he wouldn't ever again let someone call him that…

The beautiful eyes looked almost impassive again, but from that moment he wanted to _really_ hurt her, to break her, to _kill_ her. She had no right… she couldn't… She…

His thoughts cut off abruptly, as he shut them down. Instead, he watched the girl at his feet, the green eyes now filled with fierce determination. As if to rebuke her he shook his head slightly.

"Uh-uh… You're terribly vulgar today, aren't you? I didn't think you had it in you…" he mocked her, but there was no playfulness, no forgiveness in his voice and Hermione started to realize that she shouldn't have let her rage and temper run away with it.

"Oh, and before you even start to hope for someone to save you… I don't think that your oh-so-wonderful Dumbledore even knows what's going on here at the moment. And…" A short pause, in which he looked down at her with something near amusement, "you don't seem to learn…"

Another hurtful curse came at her and without having a chance to flee it left her in terrible pain, feeling as if each and every bone in her body was broken and splintered.

But not even that took away her resolve. Even while being in a pained hazem she continued to chant about Dumbledore punishing Harry, if he ever found out – what she obviously didn't doubt.

"You know, Hermione, you're really loyal… It would be a good trait, if it weren't Dumbledore you are so faithful to. After all, it's not often that someone is as determined as you are at the moment…" He watched her for one moment, her eyes seemingly spitting fire at him, "But alas…"

It didn't seem to bother him that Hermione hadn't decided to side with him, to help him, to be a friend and the brown haired girl noticed it.

"Harry… I really _hate_ you," she grounded out, as she spat some blood aside. It seemed as if she had bitten her lip again… Or was it still open?

"But _Hermione_! That hurt me deeply, don't you know that?" He mocked, while he let one of his hands wander to his heart, laying it on his chest as if someone had stabbed him with a sword or something. But he didn't even try to sound sad; instead another curse was hurtled at his former friend only moments later.

He was long past the point where he could have controlled his actions. Instead it was the hate and fury that were doing the work, killing his former friend. And he didn't really care. After all, she had called him a slut, told him that the Dursleys had been right in treating him as they had, even if they _hadn't _been… He knew they hadn't… And he wasn't worthless, either… He deserved his place in this world; he wasn't useless, _weak_… He never wanted to be weak again. After all he had been that too often already…

Shaking his head just slightly he shooed the thoughts out of his head, concentrating on the matter of hand.

"I think we'll have to say goodbye now, Hermione, my _friend_… You know, I still have other things to do, even if our little… chat was _extremely_ nice."

A knife appeared in his hand, but he was disappointed when the young woman didn't react in the least. She seemed to have problems focussing on the situation she was currently in, but Harry had a way to prevent her zooming out. Slowly, almost leisurely the knife glided over that soft skin of hers and let blood seep out. Hermione whimpered, long past the point where she would have been able to scream, as she felt the pain.

"I don't want to be blended out, you know? It would seem as if I weren't worth the attention and I think I don't like that…" He explained, but it earned him just a hateful look which he ignored. Instead he smirked down at his former friend.

"Bye, bye, 'Mione…" With that, he cut her throat.

And with the young woman died a piece of his soul, even if he didn't notice it at that moment.

**-o-o-**

Harry healed the cut on the arm and all the inner injuries that had been caused by the curses he had put Hermione under. After all, he didn't want to attract too much attention from the ministry, so he let it seem like an assault.

Cautiously, he searched through the young woman's cloak, careful not to forget anything. After all, it _would_ be strange if someone had wanted to rob her, only to leave all her money and other valuables.

Harry didn't find anything, and he was almost glad about it. It wasn't as if he wanted something to remind him of that treacherous friend of his, after all. And if he was at it… all he wanted was to finally leave all that behind.

Before Disapparating, he dismantled the spells that had covered the place all the while he had been here.

He was… a bit curious how Voldemort had reacted to his disappearing…

* * *

This chapter was hell to write. -.-'' I still don't like it. It's illogical; it was even more so in the German version. But there was no way to change it without overthrowing the storyline, so…

It did almost physically hurt, to write that. –laughs– Sorry for the long wait.

Thanks for the reviews, as always. I don't know anymore which ones I already replied to and which not… so maybe some haven't been answered. I'll try to not let it happen again. Sorry. X'(

Oh, and thanks to Disco-Dancing on the roof for betaing, as always. :)


	5. Chapter 4

**-o-Chapter 4-o-**

Exhausted, but nonetheless very pleased with himself, Harry strode through the door into Voldemort's manor. He supposed it was already known that he had left the Death Eater's headquarters, which was why he didn't even bother to cast an invisibility spell on himself again. Instead, he tried to clean his robes - after all, he didn't want the blood marring it - but to his dismay none of the spells he tried worked.

The black-haired wizard frowned. Even magic had its boundaries, it seemed, as the dark red just _didn't_ vanish. But he wouldn't try again; it wasn't as if clothes weren't replaceable.

So it wasn't a surprise that he earned many looks, as he entered the foyer. Surely he was interesting to look at, his robes stained with blood, his expression murderous. But Harry didn't even acknowledge the Death Eaters that loitered in the hall; he just went to his room, pleased when he saw that the monitoring spell had not (yet) been replaced.

Stretching, he divested himself of his robes, which probably wouldn't get clean anymore. Merely one moment later they disappeared from the floor, without doubt because of a house-elf.

The other parts of clothing left his body when he had entered the bathroom. Warm water pearled over his skin, soothing his frazzled nerves and the overworking thoughts in his head. Only the monotonous dripping allowed him to relax, which he didn't let himself do nearly often enough.

Harry revelled in the feeling the water on his body caused. He could almost see it in front of his inner eye… the impureness was washed away, flushed down the drain, as was the guilt and the self-hate. He closed his eyes, didn't dare look at his own body, his arms, lest it come back.

Quietness settled into him, and with it came the pleasant numbness he craved.

But nice feelings couldn't last forever, and Harry knew that. Almost regretfully he left the shower, dried his body, put on his clothes. They felt heavenly against his skin, too good; he wasn't worthy enough to wear clothes as expensive as these had surely been. The thoughts were squashed. He didn't want them; he didn't need them.

Sighing quietly, he left the bathroom and was immediately reminded of where he was, as the Dark Lord had waited for him in his bedroom. Obviously he was… very angry... if the dangerous gleam in the red orbs was anything to go by. They seemed to be so hard… so very angry, but even though he knew he should be intimidated, he was nothing but a bit curious as to how the man would react.

"Who do you think who you are? Do you believe you can just walk in and out, as you want? I told you to stay in these rooms!" Voldemort said harshly, getting up and looking down at him, "I am the Dark Lord!"

"Oh, really?" Harry started, his voice marked by calmness, "I would have never known that had you not told me. But I won't let myself be imprisoned in here! Not even from the 'oh-so-big-bad-Dark-Lord'! And one more thing, I don't like to be watched over, not even by a spell. Who do you think who _you _are? We made an agreement and I can't remember to have agreed to accepting everything you say and over all, acting like some sort of pet!"

"I think you are overestimating your worth, if you think you can talk to me like this…" Voldemort told him coldly and at that moment pain flared up in Harry's scar; something he had thought to be rid of, thanks to his wall. But now the unexpected burning brought involuntary tears to his eyes, his feet buckled and he had to concentrate on keeping standing, so he couldn't see that Voldemort was closing in on him.

Only when one of the long fingers touched this chin with mocking gentleness did he notice how close the Dark Lord really was. He wanted to try to get away, but he didn't have enough time to act on his thoughts, because the finger wandered up his cheek and with the closeness to his scar the pain sharpened. An almost pathetic sounding whimper came from his mouth, not because he didn't want to scream or held it back, but because that was the only thing he was capable of anymore. He couldn't move, his body seemed to be paralysed, had he tried to get away from Voldemort, not even that would have been possible at that moment.

But nonetheless he didn't ask for forgiveness.

In the meanwhile the pain had heightened so much that he almost couldn't feel it anymore. It was that moment when Voldemort seemed to notice that the pain wouldn't make him submissive, that it wouldn't cause him to become one of his little pets. The hand left him abruptly, almost as if he was something disgusting, something no one would ever want to touch.

"Where did you go, by the way?" Voldemort asked after some seconds, his voice sounding as if it was a question of no importance, while idly looking at his fingernails. He acted as if he hadn't just tortured a mere sixteen-year-old wizard just because he hadn't liked the way the boy had talked to him.

"Oh, I… visited a _friend _of mine." He answered calmly, while softly massaging his forehead and temples, trying to make the pain that was still lingering there go away. A creepy and for him completely _unfitting _grin overcame his face, while his eyes were… dead.

Voldemort nodded and turned toward the door.

"Good. If I were you, I would at least tell me if you want to leave the manor and not just go. Don't forget that I could always just kill you if I have the feeling that you are more of a burden than you are worth." It was an empty threat; Harry knew it as well as Voldemort himself. The man wouldn't want to give up seeing Dumbledore's face when he saw that his Golden Boy had turned dark.

Only seconds later the door closed with a barely audible click and Harry grimaced, looking to the entrance.

"_I could always just kill you, if I have the feeling that you are more of a burden than you are worth…_" he mimicked the Dark Lord and made a rude gesture toward the door. "Why don't you take your fucking threat and shove it up your ass?"

Harry had been intelligent enough not to say this when the man had been in the room with him, but now nothing could hold him back anymore. That damn megalomaniacal lunatic! Always did everything have to go as he envisioned it! Did he think that Harry had escaped Dumbledore's clutches, only to become one of _his_ little chess pieces? Why hadn't he just told Harry that he didn't like the agreement as it was, when they had made it? Had he really thought that he would say no? That he would go back to Dumbledore, back to the manipulations? Back to the people that pretended to care, but _didn't_? Or had it been the challenge of continually lying to someone, playing something that wasn't real?

Why did everyone always think that he was nothing but a chess piece, something you could play around with as you liked? That could be sacrificed when the situation requested it? Or that could be laid aside and brought back when it was needed again, even if it was much later?

Sighing, Harry lay down on his bed and closed his eyes, trying to calm himself, and perhaps sleep a bit. The sun was already rising, but that didn't bother him; after all, he had been awake and on his feet almost the whole night. So it wasn't really a surprise that he was so tired. He had spent much magic and with that also energy on one of his ex-best friends, so…

He wasn't even able to work on his 'wall', as his eyes just proceeded to fall shut, and in the end he fell into the endless abyss of what was called sleep without being able to do anything against it.

-o-

It was noon when Harry awoke. He assumed it had been the smell of the food, which had just appeared, that had awoken him. So Voldemort still didn't want to let him out of his room, if he could avoid it…

The green-eyed teen snorted snidely. What should that be good for? Had he not proven already that he would not run back to Dumbledore? What was the Dark Lord afraid of, then? That he would usurp him or something? That he would snatch the power away? Oh, _please_…

Another sarcastic sound. Voldemort seemed to suspect in everyone someone that wanted to take the power away from him. Really, that could be called power complex, couldn't it? The red-eyed man was even stronger than Dumbledore, so what had he to fear? Okay, surely the dark rituals had been one cause for the Dark Lord's strength, but the man had always been very powerful, as much as he knew.

Harry let his thoughts wander, as he put the fork onto the plate, both of which disappeared without a second of hesitation. The involuntary question - how many house-elfs worked in this manor - presented itself to him, as something like this always worked so quickly. But then he shook his head over his own silly demeanour. Why did that interest him at all? He really had too much time, it seemed.

Deciding that he wanted to see how far he could go till Voldemort had enough, Harry left his rooms and just started to stroll. Of course he didn't fail to notice that the Death Eaters really acted somewhat as if it was their leader walking there, instead of him. But also the speechless and sometimes even shocked stares didn't fail to be seen by him. So they hadn't really believed Voldemort, when he had told them that Gryffindor's Golden Boy now lived in the manor.

Both the fear and respect he was treated with left a strange feeling of satisfaction in him. Even if he knew just too well that it was but a farce, that Voldemort hat told them to do this, he couldn't help but like the superiority he started to feel.

After about an hour of just walking around in the manor he decided that it was time to return to his rooms. He hadn't once been talked to by someone; he had not even felt pain in his scar, so Voldemort didn't seem to be angry at him. Perhaps he had decided that it wouldn't do any good if he kept him imprisoned any longer. That it would destroy Harry's 'trust' in the man.

The green-eyed teen snorted, which caused some startled stares from the Death Eaters to be directed at him. He himself ignored the gazes and acted as if nothing had happened. As if he would ever even _think of _trusting Voldemort. Even the consideration of that was nothing but laughable.

Behind him the door slammed shut and without wanting to he flinched. Unlike other occasions, this time it was very visible and he cursed himself for his fear, and that he couldn't suppress it. It seemed he would never be able to forget, even for a short time, what had happened to him, what had been forced upon him. He would never forget… never forgive…

Unwillingly, his thoughts wandered into the past, back to things he hated, back to things that had lead him to become what he was now… He had been shocked when he had realized that his whole life had been planned by Dumbledore, or almost, at least. Maybe the things that had happened at the Dursleys had not been entirely intended, but the man had known that he would be mistreated when he had left him at their house, that he was sure of… Hogwarts had not been completely planned either. Voldemort had thrown his two Sickles in, now and then. But other than that… He didn't even know if his friends had been real. How could he identify, anymore, what was truth, what was lie?

A deep sigh came from him and an unpleasant prickling in his eyes started to make itself known.

_Unwanted_.

Suddenly the coldness seemed to enclose him, to almost choke him. Tightly, almost painful his hands buried themselves into the thick black hair, when he realized that a flashback was under way and closing in on him.

_No. Nonononono._

Harry could almost feel the fat hands, the panic that had held him tightly in its grasp at that time.

_Freak._

Knocking. It forced him out of the lethargy he had been in and he was glad for whoever stood in front of the door.

"Yes?" he asked, hating how childish and helpless his voice sounded at the moment. It reminded of a kid that was lost in the dark and not of a wizard that would be seventeen in a few days. Another unpleasant side-effect of his flashbacks.

The door was opened and a very familiar person entered.

"Potter"

Immediately, the green-eyed teen growled. He hated that voice so much…

* * *

Damn, I wanted to update yesterday (on Friday), and then I forgot. Unfair, I had intended it to be uploaded on my birthday... and then there was so much to do, it left my thoughts. -sniff- Whatever, I hope the chapter was okay. :)

'Y know, because it was my birthday yesterday a review would be _really _nice... -hint-


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